


Sentiments

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drowning, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hypothermia, Loss, M/M, Phobias, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Were it some great beast, Geoffrey would have laughed gleefully and shouted his most ferocious battle cry in the face of its assault. He would have drawn steel and bow, sprung and coiled, bounding and lunging until it painted the land with its blood. A red agony written across cobblestones and soaked into the soil beneath their feet. He would have sneered, a toothy look of conflicting disgust and satisfaction. He would flick the blood from his blade, assess his surroundings and regroup towards the next target at his disposal.He would have enjoyed it.But this was another entity entirely. No leech nor beast could compare to its endless knowing depths. To the cold abyss that encircled him and strung through his guts like a fishing lead. It pained him, drove him to nightmares, shreds of the past echoing in his mind when even sleep couldn't spare him it's ever constant presence. Of course, in fecking London of all places, he couldn't escape it.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Sentiments

Were it some great beast, Geoffrey would have laughed gleefully and shouted his most ferocious battle cry in the face of its assault. He would have drawn steel and bow, sprung and coiled, bounding and lunging until it painted the land with its blood. A red agony written across cobblestones and soaked into the soil beneath their feet. He would have sneered, a toothy look of conflicting disgust and satisfaction. He would flick the blood from his blade, assess his surroundings and regroup towards the next target at his disposal.

He would have enjoyed it. 

But this was another entity entirely. No leech nor beast could compare to its endless knowing depths. To the cold abyss that encircled him and strung through his guts like a fishing lead. It pained him, drove him to nightmares, shreds of the past echoing in his mind when even sleep couldn't spare him it's ever constant presence. Of course, in fecking _London_ of all places, he couldn't escape it.

A writhing leviathan that raged in a shapeless mob, swallowing up every poor soul that had the misfortune of falling into its clutches. A foul swipe from a Vulkod had knocked Geoffrey off his feet. Two Skals were no problem for him, child's play at best. But the Vulkod came barreling out of the nearby warehouses and shoved him over the rickety railing. The water warped wood gave way under his weight and he felt the jolt of terror shoot through him like an electric current.

His eyes gazed up at the grey sky, a last glimmer of the world around him in a dull swath of distressing tones before he met the unprompted icy plunge. The roar of the Vulkod and the cries of his men were muted out by the sudden wash over his head as he sank below the surface. It tore at his limbs and dragged him further and further down. Every struggle was fruitless, an effort that burned his lungs and taunted him against the endless tides that swelled up above.

He saw only darkness. He felt only fear, a deep pungent stench that curled through his body as the weight of his gear and his sword pulled him down. His limbs felt so heavy, his skin so cold, covered in icy needles prickling at his fingertips and stabbing against his face. It stole the air from his chest and turned the darkened world a blurry velvet that was far from enticing.

The shadows twisted into the horrific shape of some foul beast lurking around him. A flash of silver. A touch of cold as if death's boney clutches have come to seize him personally. He thrashed with what little strength he had, but the fire in his lungs gave out in a stream of frantic bubbles. He slumped against the limb that pulled at him, wrapped around his midsection as it started to move.

Geoffrey blinked against the swirling water in his face before everything went dreadfully silent.

  
  
  


He coughed and sputtered desperately, flailing against the sand as he tried to force his body to move. A strong hand helped him roll onto his side as he puked up the stinking water from his guts. He shuddered and heaved in body wracking gasps, fingers curled into fists against the sand until his knuckles were white. His hair askew and pasted across his forehead, damp and limp.

Geoffrey still felt that guiding hand, laid gently upon his back as it massaged slow circles between his shoulders. It traced gently down his spine in a tender way that felt strange for the situation. His heart was roaring in his ears still, hammering against his ribcage as the reality of his situation came crashing in around him. A dozen different concerns all scrambled to the forefront of his brain as he searched with bleary eyes for his sword. He twisted around and came rather uncomfortably close to a very familiar leech.

In this position, they were almost nose to nose. Those soft pale blue eyes were creased with deep concern. The normally prim and proper doctor looked like a drowned rat, hair just as disheveled and out of sorts as the rest of him. He didn't have his coat on, just the formal white shirt which was dirty and stained from the ill timed dip. They both reeked of the water and were speckled in the sand from the equally as unpleasant beach. Strewn with debris and decaying seaweed. The occasional dead fish and bottles from the lively alcoholics that mosey down this way from the Turtle.

"Take it easy, Geoffrey." Jonathan spoke in a hushed tone, one hand rested gently on his shoulder. Geoffrey's gaze dropped from the leech's expression towards the hand, a prickle of unease coiling up his spine. It was accompanied by the realization of just how fucking cold he felt.

His fingers were stiff as he tried to grab at Jonathan's wrist. His strength was sapped as he shivered harder. His teeth chattering as he cursed. "Fucking hell!"

He shoved at the hand and only by the grace of the Ekon, did Jonathan allow him to do it. It put a fire in his belly that sadly, couldn't burn hot enough to warm the rest of him up.

"Where is my sword, Reid?"

"Sadly, at the bottom of the ocean." Jonathan's expression was about as apologetic as if he were telling a child that their puppy had died. The heartbreak was similar for Geoffrey. That sword was everything to him. It had sentimental value and couldn't be replaced no matter how hard one tried. His shoulders fell, deflated with disappointment which lasted only moments before he curled back up again, tense and strung with another wave of shivering.

"Geoffrey-" Jonathan started but the Hunter was having none of his opinions.

"My men. I need to get back to them." He pushed himself up to his feet with a lot of effort and a sideways stumble. Jonathan was quick to join him, resting a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"They're fine. I took care of the Vulkod for them." Jonathan explained. "Before I jumped in after you." That last part felt rather pointed and Geoffrey resisted the urge to bristle up. He didn't have the energy to spare.

"Now, if you're done. Your lips are turning blue and you can barely stand on your own two feet. If you'll allow me to, I can treat you back at Pembroke." He urged, a fair point to Geoffrey's ears and were he in a different mood, he'd have been stubborn and refused. For now, he was too worn out and if he dared say it, shaken up by the whole experience. He didn't have it in him to kick and protest and fight the ekon.

Jonathan nodded in approval before holding a hand up in pause. "Give me a moment. I'll be right back." The doctor didn't even allow Geoffrey a response before vanishing into shadows and disappearing in a blink of an eye. A minute later, he returned with his coat strung over his arm which he promptly swapped Geoffrey's off of him and replaced it with the warm dry fabric of Reid's. It was heavy but not because of the material. Much like Geoffrey's, it was designed to function with multiple purposes. Housing medicine in the pockets and, was that a hacksaw strapped to the inside? Holy shit, it was a lot heavier than his own, he realized after a minute.

"There. Hopefully it will help warm you up a little until we get there." Jonathan announced, slinging the soaking wet coat over his arm as if it didn't weigh twice as much as it normally did.

He spared a second long glance at the Hunter and frowned, taking stock of their surroundings once more as he thought it over. "On second thought." He adjusted their heading and started Geoffrey walking. It took the Hunter a moment to make sense of the new course Jonathan had set, causing him to frown as he stumbled along beside the leech with heavy feet and a tiredness in every shuffled step. He cursed under his breath when he didn't lift his leg enough before catching some debris. Jonathan's strong arms braced him and helped carry his weight.

"Why are we headed towards toff territory?" He grimaced as the word left his lips and frowned down at the ground, focusing on every step he took. The effort was ridiculous but he was so cold, it was getting hard to move. Like all his joints were freezing up and refusing to obey him. His feet felt like ice blocks in his boots, water trapped inside sloshed around.

"Because the route to Pembroke is rife with Priwen patrols and getting you into Pembroke without too many questions will be near impossible. I highly doubt you would wish your men to see you in this state and I am aware the staff will balk at my own well being."

He chuckled in dry amusement. "Unlike you, I don't sustain a core temperature. One touch to my skin and they'll assume I'm on death's door."

Geoffrey managed a snort in response, but he applauded Reid's forethought. His own mind was sluggish from the unfortunate dip he took in the water and he hadn't necessarily considered what may have happened if they crossed paths with his men. He'd be proud to say they'd shoot on sight but at the moment the only thing that secured his safety and his life, was the leech currently holding his arm and bearing his weight along the winding London paths.

"Fair enough." He mumbled out, following the newly changed course, as if he really had a choice. Every step was a massive effort. The shadows flickered in and out, making it hard to focus on any singular position. The small flames in barrels and bins that had been set by the unfortunate souls living on the streets conflicted with his vision and made his head hurt. He focused on breathing and listening to Jonathan ramble on with his medical jargon. Occasional questions would drift towards him and he'd answer after long drawn out moments of concentration. It was getting so hard to keep up.

He couldn't feel his feet. They weighed heavy, like frozen blocks and he stumbled more often than not. By time they reached the gates of the West End, Reid was nearly carrying him. By time they reached the front steps of his childhood home, the good doctor had to help him that last distance up the stairs and into the doorway.

Geoffrey wasn't prepared for Avery to pop up like the ever constant and loyal servant he was. It startled him out of his daze when the elderly man spoke in that wobbly raspy voice. The years were unkind it seems, and he wondered how Jonathan could handle this day in and day out. The knowledge that everyone will eventually grow old and die, and he will always remain, unchanging and never ending in his existence. It would be a long and lonely life to endure.

Geoffrey didn't realize he had drifted off, his thoughts wandering in their errant ponderings while he grew heavy against Jonathan's side. The doctor made a concerned sound in his throat and hoisted Geoffrey up into his arms as if he weighed nothing. Avery made a noise that could be taken as admiration for his Master's youth.

"Avery, could you set a kettle on for tea?"

"Yes Master Jonathan. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment but I'll inform you if I need anything more. Thank you Avery." With the dismissal, Jonathan took the opportunity to carry Geoffrey up the stairs towards his bedroom, ignoring the soaked through clothing and the wet spots their tracks were leaving in the carpet. The good doctor made a mental note to clean that up later and apologize to Avery for the unnecessary mess.

Once they were behind the safety of closed doors, Jonathan began the arduous task of trying to remove the many _many_ layers of Geoffrey's outfit. His fingers worked diligently to slip open the buttons while simultaneously trying to keep the hunter on his feet. Geoffrey's gaze was dulled over and almost trance like as he wobbled in place. He tried to cross his arms to garner warmth but it only interrupted Jonathan's work, causing the doctor to push his arms away with an apologetic look.

"I know you're cold but work with me a bit and I will have you warmed up in no time." Jonathan assured as he urged the hunter to comply as he peeled off his shirt and let the damp fabric of each article of clothing heap upon the floor, forgotten for another time.

"Too bad this isn't under different circumstances. Yer not likely ta get a secon chance at gettin me outta mah trousers." Geoffrey slurred, placing a weak hand upon Jonathan's shoulder to balance himself as he attempted to step out of the aforementioned clothing. It caught on his ankles as he tried to work it around a boot that didn't slip off the first time. He very nearly fell back into Jonathan's bed but the Ekon was faster and captured him with a firm arm around his waist.

Once he was freed, Jonathan pulled back the covers of his bed and ushered Geoffrey to crawl inside where it was warm and the heavy weight of the comforter and quilts settled upon him. He made quick work gathering up the fallen clothing and piling it by the door before starting a fire in the fireplace. The heat was a minor warmth to his own frozen skin which kindly reminded him that he was soaked to the bone as well.

A cautious glance towards Geoffrey rewarded Reid with the huddled mass of the man beneath the blankets, thankfully shivering and tucked as far under as was comfortable. Just the messy top of his head could be seen. This gave Jonathan enough of an opening to change into a dry pair of trousers and a clean white button up.

He collected the abandoned pile of clothes and made his way out of the room with quick quiet steps. Downstairs, he made a trade with Avery, passing off the waterlogged garments in need of a proper cleaning for the tray of tea and, thankful for Avery's forethought, hot soup.

On the way back up the stairs, he detoured long enough to tuck an extra quilt under his arm from the linen closet and headed back inside his room. The tray balanced in one hand while he placed it on the nightstand beside his bed.

Geoffrey didn't move at all beneath the blankets, giving the illusion of sleep. Only the minor shivering gave away the honest truth as the fire started to fill the room with heat. Jonathan laid the additional quilt across the bed and placed a hand upon Geoffrey's shoulder to pull his attention back on him.

"Avery made you some soup and tea. Try to eat something, please Geoffrey. It'll help warm you up." The gentle drop in his voice managed to coax the hunter out of his huddle, greeted with a cold nosed sniffle and a scowl.

"I have half a mind to toss you back into the ocean for my sword, you know that?"

"Well, your spirit is up. That's a good sign." Jonathan teased lightly and reached for the tray. "Soup or tea? What would you like first?"

"Tea." Geoffrey grunted, snaking a hand out to accept the offering. He shimmied up just enough to crane his head and take a few sips before hunkering back down where it was warmer and more comfortable. Jonathan held the cup, guiding it along with Geoffrey's trembling hands towards the hunter's lips. The Irishman was still wracked with shivers but that was considered a good sign as far as the doctor was concerned.

After coaxing Geoffrey into getting half a bowl of soup down, he lamented and let the man scrounge for some semblance of sleep while he fought off the chill. Jonathan combed his fingers through the tangled brunet mess of hair that lollygagged across Geoffrey's forehead and returned to stoke the flames of the fire and add more fuel.

He stayed up for the rest of the night, carefully watching over the hunter while he slept and kept the fire going until the sun started to crest the horizon. Jonathan had adjusted his desk chair to sit beside the fireplace, angled just so he could watch the hunter while he slept until the curse of dawn dragged him into his own deep rest.

  
  


The hours stretched on with the silence of Reid Manor. Not even the subtle motions of Avery going through his daily routine stirred into the room. Geoffrey woke a few hours before sunset, blinking with confusion into the darkened room. His internal clock felt all out of sorts until he realized he was curled up in a leech's layer. Even worse, he was in a leech's bed.

Rolling over onto his side, he found the primary problem leech that continued to be a thorn under his skin. He looked so pale, even in the darkness with the cooling embers of the fire offering the tiniest wisps of light that remained. His posh appearance was mussed and bedraggled, and the dressed down comfortable clothing made him look younger in a way that amused Geoffrey. He wondered mildly, if Jonathan looked like this when he was human, working long relentless nights at a hospital or studying abroad as he researched blood born diseases and tested new transfusion techniques.

Was he some starry eyed lad with so much hope in his head that he could change the world for the better? Geoffrey gave a breathy chuckle. If only you knew that you could do the same, but not just as a doctor. Jonathan saved all of Britain and in extension, the world. Yet here he was, fretting over Geoffrey like a mother hen and saving his life from stupid reasons.

Geoffrey's shoulders slumped with a defeated sigh. He scrubbed a hand over his face and grimaced at the ache that still lingered in his bones. "Guess nearly drowning drained me." He shook his head and pushed himself up to the edge of the bed, scanning the room for his clothes but finding no trace of them.

"Must have given them to the butler." That was an amusing thought since most of those garments were full of weapons, powders and other unsavory things. Though, he supposed Avery has probably seen his fair share of strange working for someone like Jonathan.

He ventured that it wouldn't hurt to borrow something from his host leech's closet in the meantime. They were roughly the same build and height, give or take a fraction.

After several minutes of rummaging around, he found a pair of older trousers patched in the knee from some time ago, and a navy blue sweater. It was comfortable and warm enough to keep away the chill that nipped the air now that the fire was out. The old ragged clothing seemed unusual for a toff to have around but he supposed maybe it held some form of sentimental value for Jonathan from his youth.

It was strange, Geoffrey admitted, to be walking the halls of Jonathan's home by himself. He had imagined it to be some big luxurious abode that was brimming with wealth. It was big and it was fancy, but somehow it was also cozy. It was big enough for the family's size and nothing more. The only opulence he found was in old items he could brush off as family heirlooms. The Reid name wasn't old money and as far as status went, they were relatively new and considerably quiet about their wealth and their lives. The father was a humble man despite his profession as a banker and his son followed in his footsteps with his generosity and kindness.

From what he knew about the rest of the family from his past investigations, they were all rather simple. They took summer trips to France and the daughter, Mary Reid had been married. Her husband died at war and she lost her baby to sickness. A plight that all young widows have felt the stinging pain of in these last few years.

He recalled a report that landed on his desk before all this happened so many months ago. His men were aware of her presence at the Mass Grave site. They had attempted to warn her off but she refused to leave, claimed she was searching for her brother. Of course, they couldn't have known what would happen. She had found her brother but he was no longer the man she once knew. Not in that sliver of time that he had just awakened.

Geoffrey was not blind to the grief that filled Jonathan's eyes when he spoke of her or when he reflected upon that night. He understood the pain of losing a sibling to something you can't control. They stood on opposite ends of the spectrum but the pain is the same nonetheless. Both of them have used it to fuel their goals in life and drive them forward. Though, he never once imagined that losing Ian would lead him to befriending a Leech and being saved by it.

He left out a breathy laugh that dragged on his throat. A cough welled up, sore and raw from the experience of the day prior.

"Would you like some tea, sir?"

The voice startled Geoffrey from his thoughts, causing him to whirl quickly towards the butler. His eyes narrowed with suspicion upon the man. Geoffrey was put off by the fact he never heard him approach. If it wasn't still daylight out, he would have assumed Jonathan had turned his butler into a progeny.

Dismissing the preposterous thought, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I would appreciate that, yes please."

"Certainly sir." Avery paused before adding. "The Master asked for your clothes to be washed. They're prepared for you downstairs."

"Thank you for that." This was awkward. He wasn't used to talking to toffs or their butlers. He typically avoided the West End entirely just for that reason. He stuck out like a sore thumb and it was painfully obvious.

"Would you like anything to eat sir?" Avery inquired, breaking into Geoffrey's thoughts as the butler guided him downstairs towards the kitchen.

"Um.." He trailed off, a bit perplexed.

"Master Jonathan never eats at home anymore so I don't get to cook for anyone other than guests these days." Avery informed quietly. Geoffrey assumed Jonathan wasn't home hardly ever and poor Avery gave the Irishman the impression that he was lonely in this big old house by himself.

"Sure. I could eat." He figured at this rate he wouldn't make it back to Priwen in time to catch supper with them before they head out for the night of patrols. O'Connor won't be very happy with him about it but he could get over it.

  
  
  
  


The sun had just slipped over the horizon when Jonathan stirred from his sleep. He stretched, releasing a rather pleasant groan from his chest before relaxing back into the chair. It wasn't the most comfortable place he's slept but he's certainly slept in worse places during the war and the epidemic.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and scrubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes with the ball of his palm. One eye opened to peer towards the bed, finding the blankets rumpled and empty. Geoffrey's scent still lingered in the air, fresh and muddled with the faint traces of the pier.

His vision slipped into the grey cast tones as his hand fell away. Peering through the walls and floors, he spotted two familiar figures down in the parlor. Geoffrey was sitting down, hunched over something while Avery perused the shelves with a wandering hand. Curiosity claimed him as he rose to his feet and shadow stepped carefully down to the lower level, his interest piqued as to what those two were doing in his absence. 

His sharp hearing quickly pulling at the words Avery spoke.

"Believe it or not, young Master Jonathan used to be quite the awkward boy when he was little. A brilliant child, if I do say so, but not as social as Miss Mary."

Geoffrey chuckled. "You're right. I can hardly believe it. He seems to charm most folks he meets."

"He takes after his mother in that regard. Madame Emelyne was a lovely woman with a very large heart for the world. Both of her children shared this trait."

Geoffrey's voice fell low as he spoke, it was soft and sympathetic. "I heard about the loss. My condolences." She had gone in her sleep, about as peaceful a way as anyone could go. Jonathan had been there that night, one of the rare few times he was. It hurt, watching her fade away into the shadow of what she used to be. She was such a talented wonderful woman and a loving mother. She was a bright star in Jonathan's life and to have it gone left a dark void in his life. It made it hard staying at the Manor. Some days he couldn't bear entering the threshold knowing that all the bountiful lives it once held were now fading memories in the past.

Other days he considered selling it all and moving on. But alas, he couldn't bring himself to do that to Avery. He was the last remnant of his old life. The sole reason he kept coming back though he did a piss poor job of taking care of the elderly caregiver that watched over his family for decades. A loyalty and service unlike any other. He was still family.

Jonathan can recall the last evening with his mother. He joined her in the parlor for tea and they talked for hours, reminiscing about the past and discussing the future. She wanted to see France one last and talked about taking one last family vacation. All of them together. Jonathan, Mary, Aubrey and Avery. Even her son-in-law and nephew. She had quite the fantastical tale woven together as to how their days will be spent.

Jonathan refrained from telling her that France was a battleground and there was no chance that they could go back for some time. Instead he helped her upstairs to her bed and tucked her in. He left a kiss on her cheek and bid her good night. An hour passed by when he finally heard her heart fall silent. And then he cried. He mourned her long into the night, never once leaving his room.

He hadn't left the house in days after that until his hunger forced him to scrounge up a few rats and attempt to get some fresh air. Instead he found Geoffrey and they sat in the cemetery for hours, silent and still.

"Master Jonathan has taken it hard I'm afraid." Avery's words dragged him from his thoughts. He winced inwardly and sighed, taking a step on a particularly creaky spot in the floor alerting the pair to his presence.

He approached the parlor doors as he called out. "Avery?" Jonathan put on a smile as he peered into the parlor and feigned surprise to find Geoffrey still remained. The surprise however was not false when he realized the hunter was wearing his old clothes.

"Ah, Geoffrey. I'm pleased to see you're feeling better." His words were genuine as he entered the room completely now, his eyes raking over the hunter for any signs of hidden injuries previously overlooked or any underlying illnesses from the dip in the water.

"I'm feeling fine now, thank you." Surprisingly those words weren't strained. It left a warm flutter burning in Jonathan's chest like a childish spark of delight.

"I'm glad to hear that. I was worried something worse would entail." He breathed an unnecessary sigh of relief and smiled towards Avery.

"Thank you for your assistance Avery. I truly appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Of course Master Jonathan." Avery bid, a smile pulled on those wizened features. A warmth that glowed from the elder man as he departed to carry on with his usual routine, allowing the pair their privacy.

"Are you hungry?" Jonathan asked after a moment, shutting the door behind himself.

"Avery made me supper."

"Good. It most likely made his evening to have somebody around to care for." He sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I honestly don't know what to do for him. Without my mother here, Avery has nobody to look out for and I'm afraid what that may do to him in the long run."

"He has you." Geoffrey offered. 

A snort came from the doctor which was unbecoming yes, but he couldn't help it. "I don't require any kind of service or care, sad to say."

"Is that the honest truth, Reid? Or are those the words of a man fooling himself?" It wasn't meant to sound like a challenge but the underlying bite remained nonetheless.

"You're compelled to help every single person in the world but you never let a soul help you in return." Geoffrey continued, gesturing at the room around them as if in answer. "You've separated yourself from your loved ones for so long that when you finally realized you _needed_ them, it was too late."

"That's not true." Jonathan protested, brows furrowed in confusion as he watched the hunter push himself up to his feet. He followed Geoffrey as the man approached, placing a firm hand on his shoulder in passing.

"I appreciate your help, leech but I gotta get back to Priwen." Jonathan found amusement in that, eyeing Geoffrey as he collected his belongings from the table Avery left them on. Jonathan didn't prod further, giving up for the evening to let the hunter have this one, just this once.

  
  
  
  
  


Geoffrey did not stand on the pier staring longingly into the ocean pondering about his sword. He did not sulk around Priwen for days and lament the loss every time he reached for his belt and found that space empty. He most definitely didn't pout when he spotted the men practicing with their favored weapons in the courtyard or cursed under his breath when they took down an Ekon with a rapier.

His men most certainly weren't catching on to his foul mood and the absence of his sword. They at least had enough sense not to mention it or bring up the night he was thrown into the swells below that swallowed him up. And they knew well enough not to mention how the good leech doctor saved his life. Again.

It was seriously becoming a habit and that made Geoffrey particularly prickly about the topic entirely.

Counting his losses always made him feel so bitter and despite his reservations, he had to add his sword to the list. It was with much regret that he had to face the reality of the situation that, unless he magically sprouted gills (and overcame his irrational fears), he would never reach it wherever it may rest at the bottom of that nefarious abyss.

With night drawing to a close and dawn nearing, he made his way through the winding back alley streets towards Whitechapel and their current Priwen headquarters. He reasoned O'Connor would have the group of recruits on their way back soon from their first patrol and he would have a stack of paperwork to sort through that he was actively avoiding.

Though, his current concerns were dismissed when he noticed something unusual in his path. Near the front gate leading to the building was a tall slim box, tied around the middle with a red ribbon. There was a tag attached but in the faint light, he couldn't make out the carefully scrawled words. The weight of the box was familiar but Geoffrey couldn't pinpoint why exactly.

Curiosity killed the cat, as he scooped the box up into his arms and stormed directly up towards his office. The container barely touched the surface of his desk, ignoring the papers stacked precariously on the edge that would inevitably fall while he pulled the ribbons free. The tag slipped away from the knot and fell into his grasp. 

_Be more cautious around water, will you? I'm not going to ruin another outfit to practice my hand at deep sea diving._

It wasn't signed but it didn't take a genius for him to figure out who it was from. Ripping open the box, he found his sword wrapped carefully in soft linen and polished to a shine. Geoffrey examined the blade and rubbed a thumb along the edge and smiled when it nicked the skin. The bastard even had it sharpened.

The idea of Jonathan sitting in his bedroom trying to sharpen his sword by hand was as amusing as the good doctor spending hours diving down into the depths to scavenge for the blade. He supposed being an Ekon would be pretty close to growing gills. He doesn't necessarily _need_ to breathe and his leech vision would be beneficial in the dark depths when sussing out where exactly the weapon had fallen.

"I'm not exactly sure how to thank a leech for a sword but I guess I owe the bastard one the next time I see him." Geoffrey mused as he lifted the blade and took a test swing. He held it with ease, a flex of comfort in his palm as everything suddenly felt right again. "Eh, I won't kill him. We could count that as even." He chuckled. 

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a fic where Geoffrey has an irrational fear of water, one that has followed him since he was a child. Which leads to him nearly drowning on a hunt. 
> 
> Instead, it became a fic about loss and the different variations of loss. For Jonathan it's his family and his humanity. For Geoffrey, it's the object that gave him his identity as a Hunter and has sentimental value of the people he held close along the way. 
> 
> Both men reevaluate their losses and are forced to recognize what remains in the end.


End file.
